Anniversary

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A/N: I wrote this in response to the Ani/Padmé FanFic Archive’s First Anniversary challenge. A bunch of Anakin and Padmé fluff, but—if you’re in the mood…

What do you think? Please tell me.

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Padmé was sure she had somewhere else to be. She knew she shouldn’t be going to the summer ball tonight—she shouldn’t leave—what if he showed up? She frowned, a more angry expression that sad.

“Too tight?” Dormé asked from behind her, noticing that Padmé’s face was dawning over.

“No, Dormé,” she answered, sucking in a breath, “It’s fine.”

“Then why the frown?” She asked. Dormé was always kind of nosy—she was one of the few who knew about her and Anakin’s marriage, and she always demanded to know everything. “Is it—“

“No,” she said, looking back at her with a fake-reassuring smile, “It’s not him,” she lied. “It’s this dance tonight—I hate these parties.” Her hand flew up to her mouth, a nervous habit in which she bi her nail. “Absolutely dread them.”

“Wasn’t it just last month that you told me you loved parties? That you couldn’t—“ Dormé was accusing in a doubtful way. She smiled mockingly, suddenly realizing, “Is today—“

Padmé lowered her head. “Out first anniversary,” she muttered solemnly.

Dormé placed two hands on her friend’s shoulders. “C’mon, Padmé,” she said. She always stuck on the bright side—miss optimistic—but she didn’t know. She couldn’t know that pain that Padmé was going through that night. She dearly missed him… so much… “Cheer up. Have fun tonight.”

Dormé put her finger on Padmé’s chin, bringing her eyes to meet her own. She smiled. “Order a couple drinks…”

“Dormé, I’m not making a fool of myself in front of a thousand Senators and… other royal people,” she chuckled, “The—HoloNet will be there. Covering every corner.” She hated those damn news reporters. A scowl was brought upon her face as she remembered their last report of the ‘Single Senators’ and whom they were most likely to be with. She could never picture herself with Bail Organa—and plus, he had a wife. Anakin was featured on that list, but it was decided that since he had to follow the Jedi Code, he couldn’t be eligible to win Padmé Amidala’s heart.

Oh, silly reporters.

“Have fun,” she let go of Padmé, pushing her out to door. “And don’t think about you-know-who.”

Padmé grabbed her bag in a hurry, and grudgingly went out the door, and pushed the turbo lift buttons.

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She sat in the corner. The far corner. Away from everybody. She sipped her beverage, mad at herself that she had ordered three of these things. She had given into Dormé’s advice. That made her smile slightly, and then she remembered why she was sitting in the far corner.

Her hand rose to the necklace tucked into her shirt. She rubbed it with her finger, knowing that the boy who made it years ago was no the boy that held her heart, the man who was fighting in the Wars. He was the man who was her husband.

Oh, how her wedding day had been so special. They had kissed for many minutes; it seemed like hours, before the sunset, holding each other in their arms. There was nothing but their love, their devotion for each other. They have never wanted it the end.

But it did.

Ever so fast—now, a year later, she was wondering where those days without War and politics went. He had been on Corellia for far too long now—the last time she saw him was two months ago. The length they had to be apart was quickly increasing, as did Anakin’s rank in the Jedi Order. Soon, he’d undergo the Trials and become a Jedi Knight. He wouldn’t be a Padawan learner anymore, and he wouldn’t have to live in the Temple. He would have his own apartment outside on the Jedi Temple, and this meant he could get away quicker; he could see Padmé more…

She smiled thinking that she would get to wake up and see his face in the morning. She wouldn’t get up at the crack of dawn to kiss him goodbye, to see him off before the Masters checked the dormitories to wake the Padawans up.

“Senator Amidala!”

Padmé groaned to herself when hearing the squeaky voice of Senator Kare Fontin coming over her way. There was no one around for her to pretend like she was having a conversation—she checked the empty seats around her.

“Senator Amidala,” Fontin greeted formally, bowing.

“No need to bow, Senator,” Padmé stifled a gracious smile. Only people like Anakin or Sola knew this smile to be a faux one—he part of her ‘politician’s look’ as Anakin would say. “How’s your wife?”

“Fabulous…”

Padmé hardly listened to Fontin go on and on about how his wife was having trouble finding a nanny for their three children at home, and how his brother was just receiving his degree in journalism from some galactic ‘big name’ universities. Just what we need, Padmé mused, another stingy reporter.

“I have to say, your speech on Palpatine’s sudden increase in power yesterday was phenomenal,” Fontin gushed, complete with hand motions and everything, just to add effect. “I found your use of dialect and wording was wonderful. Great job.”

“Thank you, Senator Fontin,” Padmé said. “I’m sorry to say that I’m not feeling myself tonight.”

Fontin nodded, as if he could relate… “Ah, yes. I believe the fish tonight was rather uncooked.”

Padmé hadn’t eaten tonight to know.

“Maybe that’s it,” she lied, trying to make him go away, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Fontin nodded. “Hope you feel better,” he winked, which made Padmé feel a bit uneasy again. She watched him do some ridiculous dance move on the floor to music, twirling around his wife. Padmé sighed.

“Ah, that fish was really bad.”

Padmé looked around her, hearing the familiar voice over her shoulder. She wrapped her arms tightly around Anakin, into a semi-friendly hug, keeping in mind that there were many reporters here tonight. Sneaking, she kissed his cheek quickly, and they both smiled, holding each other’s hands. “You remembered,” she said underneath her breath, pushing her drink away from her.

Anakin smiled. “I did,” he said proudly, “How could I forget? That was the best day of my life, Pad—Senator Amidala.”

“Oh, stop with the name calling,” she hit him playfully. “I missed you, Ani.”

He blushed slightly, still not fully tuned into the fact that they were bound in holy matrimony to each other. This was their first anniversary, a time for celebration and red flowers. “I missed you, too, Angel,” he finally said. “I can’t tell you how hard to was to get past the security guard in the front.”

She giggled. “Please tell…!”

“I had to tell him I was sent in because a certain Senator needed a Jedi Protector,” he fought the urge to lean down and kiss her intimately, passionately… it was very difficult.

“You weren’t lying,” she said flirtatiously, “I did need my Jedi Protector.” She fought the urge, too, “This party is the worst ever.”

He smiled, meaning something, “Say we get out of here?”

She mirrored his smile, grinning wildly, meeting his eyes, “Happy Anniversary, Ani,” she said with admiration and love.

“Happy Anniversary, Padmé,” he echoed.

You wouldn’t be able to tell from the massive sleeves on the Jedi cloak, but Padmé and Anakin left that night, hand in hand.